Remembering Des: Trying to comprehend the incomprehensible

@wwaycorrigan

It has been said that we know more about the intricacies of our vast planet than we do about the human mind.

Tiny as it may be compared to the size of our world, it is very complex in composition. We may know it physically, superficially, but its inner workings remain largely a mystery.

Des relaxes before our interview at Colombia's football federation HQ in Bogotá, January 2020.

Misunderstood

While great advancements have been made in recent decades in dealing with deadly physical diseases, treating psychological problems still relies on, to a large extent, a trial-and-error approach. Generalisations on behaviour can be made and on many occasions are accurate, but the very essence of one's uniqueness emanates from his or her own brain.

We never truly know what another person is thinking, how he or she is feeling. It is, perhaps, medical science's greatest challenge: to find an effective, lasting way to treat those suffering from mental illness.

I used to have quite an unsympathetic view of people who were going through depression. My thinking was, 'Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Snap out of it.'

Time and closer dealings with depressed individuals have seen me change this stance. When one is in such a state of mind, nothing is seen in a positive light. Both the inward and outward filters are at best a dark shade of grey, at worst a bleak, hopeless black.

Nothing that one says or does seems capable of altering this. What's more, the feelings are generally irrational. One can highlight to the sufferer all the reasons why he or she should feel grateful for life but it's usually a pointless exercise. Yes, the darkness can pass, but it's normally just a brief respite.

'While I still see suicide as a horrible act, I've come to understand a little better the complete hopelessness that one feels in order to take that final, dreadful step.'

At most we know it's a chemical imbalance in the mind and with the right mix of medication, some people can learn to cope. Finding that balance is the tricky part, however.

For those who don't get that help, the ultimate solution becomes the only option to escape the constant doom.

Similar to how I used to think about depression, I used to also view very negatively that irreversible "cure" chosen by some sufferers. I saw suicide as an utterly selfish act. The depressed ends his or her suffering but leaves behind loved ones who have to try to come to terms with the fateful decision.

Again, though, my perception has changed with experience. While I still see suicide as a horrible act, I've come to understand a little better the complete hopelessness that one feels in order to take that final, dreadful step.

Demons return

Just over a year ago, I interviewed Des McAleenan, the Irish goalkeeping coach who landed what he described as a dream job with Colombia's men's football team. In that interview, he spoke candidly about the 'demons' that had taken over his mind in the past.

He was, however, in a much happier place in January 2020. There was much to look forward to — World Cup qualifiers against some of the best nations on the planet, a Copa América in front of a home Colombian crowd. Des's present and future looked bright.

Then, along came covid. The World Cup qualifiers and Copa América were postponed. With his job paused, Des left Colombia and returned to Ireland.

Initially, though, everything was fine. He even found, so he told me, more fulfilment in life by training some children in his native Dublin in the Irish summer. Facebook posts showed him enjoying daily runs along the north Dublin coast.

It was what seemed from afar a fairly innocuous ankle injury that plunged him into darkness again. He began to worry about his career. In his early 50s, if he couldn't carry out training properly, would he be let go?

In any case, he was involved with the Colombian set-up for the World Cup qualifiers in October. A straightforward home win over Venezuela and a very credible draw away to Chile did nothing to improve his state of mind.

He was ruled out for the November round of qualifiers after he contracted covid. As Colombia slumped to heavy defeats at home to Uruguay and away to Ecuador, Des was in quarantine in Bogotá's five-star Grand Hyatt Hotel.

We had a telephone call at the time and he told me how it just didn't make sense that he felt so depressed. Financially he was fine and while manager Carlos Queiroz's position was on the line after the damaging losses, Des was rather sanguine about the prospect of losing his job.

'The darkness just got darker. The demons wouldn't go away. To get rid of them, he had to get rid of himself.'

He joked, true as it was, that he hadn't actually lost a game with Colombia. Also, listening to my visa travails, lack of a steady job and general uncertainty, he said I should be the one depressed, not him. Of course, it doesn't work that way.  

Queiroz's tenure — and by extension Des's — was indeed ended shortly afterwards.  'A shit time all round' was how Des put it to me in a WhatsApp message.

Nonetheless, he told me there was a potential coaching job with a club in the US, in Salt Lake City. That prospect made him feel a lot better, so he told me. The ankle, which seemed like a physical manifestation of the mental problems he was battling, was still annoying him, however.

He went back to Ireland again in December.

The last message I received from him was on 30 December. It read: 'Back in Dublin Brendan, it's a fuckin' nightmare. Having a very difficult time coming to terms w[ith] the problem w[ith] my ankle. How are you? Still in Colombia?'

Less than two months later Des took his own life.

I only knew him for just over a year but during that time we had some long and deep conversations. Different as we were, I felt a connection with him.

I don't know what to make of his decision to kill himself. It doesn't make sense.

I tried to offer words of encouragement, tried to make him see the positive side of things. But the darkness just got darker. The demons wouldn't go away. To get rid of them, he had to get rid of himself.

Adiós, Des. Adiós.

*****
For those in Colombia troubled by what's written in this article, Bogotá has the phone line 106, ‘El poder de ser escuchado’, which offers support in times of crisis including cases of sexual violence, suicide and substance abuse. The 24-hour service is also available via WhatsApp on 300 7548933.

The city also operates the Línea Psicoactiva on 01800 0112439 (Mon-Sun from 7.30 am-10.30 pm) Facebook and Skype at Psicoactiva and WhatsApp on 301 2761197.

In Ireland, you can contact the following:

Samaritans 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org;

Aware 1890 303 302 (depression, anxiety);

Pieta House 01 601 0000 or email mary@pieta.ie (suicide, self-harm).
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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'God may be dead, but I want to live (for now)'

[Click here for an audio version of this blog entry.]
'Is it possible that he has nothing but cowardice and fear of death to make him live?' So Sonia Marmeládova asked herself about the one she cared for dearly, the murderer Rodion Raskolnikov, in Fyodor Dostoevsky's classic Crime and Punishment.

Houses of god have been off limits recently due to coronavirus restrictions.

Her great worry had been that the immense mental anguish he was suffering as a result of the crime he committed would lead him to suicide. In the end, it didn't.

In God we trust

The thing is, Rodian was an atheist. Had he believed in a god, an afterlife, and was convinced his actions had been for the good of humankind, perhaps he would have been able to end his existence in this world with less of an internal conflict.

It certainly got me thinking: Is it easier for believers to accept death — be that natural or otherwise — than non-believers?

From a suicide perspective, there have been some recent studies in this regard. While there are a lot of factors at play and it's difficult to get a true picture, there are indications that believers at least think about ending their own lives more so than atheists.

On one level, this makes sense. If you are of the conviction that this life is all we've got and all we'll ever have, there is no second chance, no redemption beyond the here and now, then why would you want to end it prematurely? 

No matter how bad your situation may be, as long as you're still breathing, there's a chance you can turn things around.

'It's difficult to comprehend how utterly miserable somebody must feel to decide to end it all. Experiencing ups and downs on the rollercoaster of life is inevitable. The difficult balancing act is trying not to overly focus on either extreme.'

On the other hand, I can only imagine, for those who truly believe in an afterlife or reincarnation or whatever, when things reach a terrible low, opting to roll the die (there's just one!), so to put it, might seem like a viable alternative than struggling on with the status quo. (Of course, against this, suicide is a sin in many religions. Yet so are lots of other things that followers let slide.)

Personally, as somebody indoctrinated into Catholicism at birth and who was an active, enthusiastic participant in it well into my mid-teens, I have often visualised my own death. 

This is not so much in a suicidal way. It is, somewhat narcissistic you could say, more about what my funeral would be like, especially if I were to die relatively young.

A lot of this is probably due to the send-offs we tend to give our dead in Ireland — or how we did pre-covid in any case. 

The deceased takes centre stage for a couple of days, so I'm, um, looking forward — paradoxically considering I don't really believe I'll be able to experience it — to my moment in the spotlight.

To die for

As for taking my own life, well I've never given it any serious thought. (Some may argue that a number of my life choices have been akin to toying with death, but I just call this living within my means.)

A corollary question is, do I fear death? In fairness, it's a concept rather difficult to envisage until one is actually confronted with it. 

What's more, considering all the unknowns surrounding it, most of us probably want to go as swiftly as possible when our number's up or when some illness like dementia takes over our minds. That way, we wouldn't be a burden on either the active living or ourselves.

Outside of that, for one who otherwise would have years to run, it's difficult to comprehend how utterly miserable he/she must feel to decide to end it all. Experiencing ups and downs on the rollercoaster of life is inevitable. The difficult balancing act is trying not to overly focus on either extreme.

Appreciate the mundane, the middle ground, the steady ship. The highs don't last. Reflecting on them too much very often just heralds in the lows. Next thing you know, death comes a-calling, by whatever means.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".